


Battle Scars

by belletylers



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, break-up fic, this episode hurt like a bitch so naturally i had to write a fic about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 10:39:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2809373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belletylers/pseuds/belletylers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of the Rumbelle break-up in 4x12. </p>
<p>"Anger does not stop the heart from loving."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Battle Scars

Maybe it’s fitting that the last she sees of him is his trembling fingers being enveloped in the magic he has tried so very hard to destroy, but she cannot bear to watch as the last of him slips over that line and out of mortal reach. She can’t heed his pleas or she might very well give in.

Anger does not stop the heart from loving.

The sound of skin and bones and cloth colliding with pavement makes her chest tighten as she remembers the damaged leg that was only healed by magic and that was once more an ailment to him. She remembers not, however, knowing how it came to be so. Another concealed truth. And still it hurts to hear.

For just a fraction of a second, she looks back, and for that fraction of a second, she is terrified. She has known the Dark One – one who strikes fear into the hearts of countless thousands, a wizard whose power is rivalled by few and whose snakelike claws snatch naughty children from their beds in the dead of night, in the confines of the folk tales of the villagers. She has known Mr Gold – a liar, a cheater and a deceiver with an ever-growing restlessness for the town that’s held him in for all these years. But what lies before her now, in a crumpled heap, she has never before seen: just a man. A man unburdened by the magic that’s plagued him for centuries. A mortal man, shaking with mortal fear. Uncertain. Alone. Powerless.

And he will remain so.

His cries grow softer with every step she takes in the other direction, and eventually, she cannot hear them at all.

***

The dagger brushes past her leg as she walks, speed picking up with every step. Mostly, it is nothing but the cool touch of the blade, but one or two times, it stings, making a cut in her porcelain skin. But she just keeps walking, fingers numb and knuckles white, holding tighly the last part of him she has left.

_Every hero needs battles scars_ , she decides.

***

The night is silent and the road is long and empty. The straight lines beneath her feet help soothe the mess that is her mind. _One foot in front of the other_ , she tells herself. The air is icy, and as the fire fades from her cheeks, she starts to feel it.

Main Street appears like a beacon, aglow with warmth. Most of the stores are closed, but the street lamps light her way to Granny’s, where her feet seem to take her regardless of her will. She thinks perhaps she should go in; try and explain things.

She’s barely halfway through the door when Emma spots her, looking immediately rather concerned. Belle supposes it is justified – she did act rather rashly. Everything happened so _fast._

The other Storybrooke citizens, formerly carefree and rather content, it seems, look up expectantly from their meals and beverages, first at Belle, and then at the dagger, which shakes slightly as her fingers tremble from the cold. In the ensuing silence, she hears Emma telling Granny in a hushed tone to make a hot chocolate (“or possibly, something a little stronger.”)

Regina sits up a little from her hunched position at the counter, looking equally curious and concerned. The atmosphere is suddenly abuzz with tension, and all Belle wants to do is run from it. She is entrapped by questions before she can.

“Is that…Gold’s dagger?” Regina asks.

“Wait, what?” Emma frowns and looks at the object in question.

“It’s used to control him,” Hook supplies. “Gold was trying to free himself of its control using the Sorcerer’s Hat…” The sentence dies on his lips, sensing that the magical details are a little much for Emma’s patience.

“The one Zelena used to control him?”

Regina bites her lip before speaking. “The very same.”

“Wait, so we could’ve used it on him to get him to tell us about Arandelle, and we didn’t?”

“It’s not that simple,” Regina argues. “If it’s the only way he can be controlled, then he’s not just going to leave it unprotected. He’d keep it hidden.”

“Then how come Belle’s got it?” Emma asks, and all heads turn in unison back to Belle. Granny pushes forth both a hot chocolate with extra cream (just as she likes it) and glass of white wine. Remembering her alter-ego Lacey’s fondness for the stuff, she instead opts for the hot chocolate, letting it warm her insides until the shivering has stopped.

“I gave it to her,” Regina explains, “after we defeated Zelena. But, Belle, you wouldn’t have kept it secret from him all this time. You’re far too…honest.”

“You’re right,” Belle replies. “I am. I gave it back to him right away, and he offered it as a promise. A proposal. But it…it was a fake. H-He switched the dagger for a copy and asked to marry me.”

“Is that the fake, then?” Hook asks.

Emma shakes her head. “How could it be? She stopped Gold from crushing your heart. It had to be the real thing.”

“I was in the shop today and I-I knoew he was planning on leaving Storybrooke. We were going to go together. To New York. A real honeymoon.” A sad smile graces her face for just a second. “I found this object: a gauntlet that leads you to anyone’s greatest weakness.” Her voice begin to wobble just a little, cracks here and there. “The thing they love…most.” The final word barely makes a sound.

“You found the dagger,” Regina finishes.

Emma’s face falls. “Oh, Belle.”

“I’ve been foolish,” Belle continues in spite of herself. “But I tried to set things right.”

“You did, you saved Killian.”

“That’s not it – I sent him over the town line.”

Regina gets up from her seat in shock. The other diner-goers, who had been eavesdropping on what had been a fairly public display anyway, look at each other in surprise.

“But there’s a curse on the town line,” Emma says, needlessly. “He can’t come back.”

“I know. What I did, I did for Storybrooke. A person can only have so many second chances. Rumple may not be with me, but while he’s out there, he won’t be able to hurt any of you.”

They all close their mouths. She realises her grip on the dagger is making her fingers ache and she lifts the tip up with her other hand, staring down at the engraved name.

“Do you realise what you’ve _done_?” Regina demands. The pain in her voice is more than obvious – her own true love had to cross that line, too, and she wished he hadn’t had to. Belle threw away something that she desperately wishes she had been able to hold onto.

Belle feels her chest tighten and her breath hitch in her throat. Guilt and fear starts to seep through her and her heart begins to flutter. Something is not right.

“Of course she does,” Hook interrupts. He pours a drink from his flask into a glass and raises it. “She’s become a hero.” Emma smiles sweetly at him from across the room with love in her eyes. “To Belle,” he toasts, and everyone in the diner echoes and raises their own glasses. Even Regina.

Belle manages a little smile at that. If nothing, it’s some reassurance that she has done the right thing. The brave thing.

The general ruckus and noise of the diner begins to rise up again, and Belle’s moment fades. She sits at the counter and sips at her hot chocolate, trying to feel okay for a moment.

“Are you gonna be alright?” Emma asks, placing a caring hand on her shoulder. “If you need someone to talk to, or a…” she looks back at Regina, who looks just as depressed as Belle feels, “a drinking buddy, I think there might be an opening.”

“I think I’ll pass on the drinking,” she replies. “For now.”

“And the talking?”

“I think I just need to go home right now.”

“Well, you know where to find me.”

One last comforting touch to the forearm is her goodbye, but Belle is not alone for long.

“Do you mind if I sit?” It’s Hook.

Feeling defeated, and too mentally exhausted to contemplate the new turn he’s taken towards her, she just nods.

“I just wanted to thank you. And to apologise.”

Belle says nothing, just studies his face carefully.

“I know it wasn’t so much saving me as stopping Gold from doing what he was doing, but…all the same, you saved my life today, Belle. I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you and your cunning. I believe in good form, you know, and it occurs to me that I never properly apologised for – well, for trying to kill you. You didn’t deserve to be caught up in the Croco-…in Mr Gold’s mess of a life.”

She shakes her head. “But I wanted to be.”

Killian goes to touch her shoulder, then thinks better of it. “Look, lass, I’m no stranger to heartbreak, and I know you aren’t, either. But you did the right thing today, not just saving me but saving this whole town.”

“Thank you,” she replies. “And thank you, for apologising.”

“You deserved better than what I gave, especially after all the times you’ve helped Emma and the others.” He reaches out and touches the dagger, which sits next to her on the counter. “You don’t know how many times I dreamed of having this. Funny, how it all ends up worthless in the end.”

***

Home is painfully empty. She is used to quiet nights where he stayed late at the shop or hid in the basement for long stretches of time, but this is different. She feels like half of her is gone, but not missing. And God, she’s so angry. She’s angry as the hot water of the shower scolds her bare skin just a little, and she’s angry as her tears fall from her cheeks and down the drain. And she’s angry when she goes into their room and sees the suitcase she’d brought back there earlier that’s full of dreams and broken promises.

The dagger, little more than a relic now, just sits functionless on a table. His wheel doesn’t spin. His potions gather dust.

Her sheets are cold, but her cheeks are hot. The dagger scares her, even in its useless state, because no one should have that much power.

She can’t get the image of that crumpled, cowardly man from her head. She told him that she didn’t see the man behind the beast anymore, but there, _that_ was it. That is Rumplestiltskin the stranger, the spinner, the soldier. The father. The man she fell in love with. The man she had wanted despite the blackness of his heart, and the corruption in his veins. The man she thought she had known, despite barely even knowing herself.

She falls into a restless sleep with images of him and _them_ playing through her mind. He traded for her, he caught her when she fell, he gave her a world of books, and he _died_ for her – for all of them. But he lied and he killed and he played puppets with the world and she happily sat by and watched the show. _No more_ , she vows.

_I’ve spent my life finding that man. Now, it’s time to try and find myself._

 


End file.
